


Wolf Lied

by saintwrites



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, fairy tale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 04:25:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintwrites/pseuds/saintwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the gruesome death of her parents, Lydia Martin moves to the village of Beacon Hills. Living with her grandmother in a cottage just beyond the forest, she attempts a fresh start. But with something sinister lurking in the woods, the little shred of hope for a normal life seems far out of reach. /AU/</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

"Lydia? Lydia are you listening?"

"Yes."

"Your escorts are here. Do you have your things packed?"

"Yes."

"Alright we'll be going now. Are you ready?"

How could she even fathom an answer.

Since she was a young girl Lydia had always been considered brilliant. At least when it came to others her age. She quickly picked up on things such as which berries were good to eat and which would kill you the moment they touched your lips. Which paths were the safest to take through the woods and which birds sang certain lullabies.

Her grandmother taught her to read when she was six and since then she had tried to get her hands on any books she could come across. Fables, myths, historic pieces. Books of poems and short stories. Anything. When she was little she enjoyed the tales of heroes and thieves. Dragon slayers and rogues taking to the night. As she grew older though, she was more drawn to anything that could open her eyes just a little bit more to the world around her. The stories and things she learned helped take her away from the mundane life she had in the tiny village.

The day came, however, when even the made up lands inside her head couldn't keep the real world from crashing around her. She had just turned sixteen - old enough at this point to be yearning for a different kind of freedom, but still young enough to naively grasp on to the little wonders. When her mother and father left one evening to visit her grandmother a few villages over, they never returned.

The first night Lydia assumed they had decided to stay in town. The second night she imagined they were camping somewhere in the woods, alone but together. The third night her facade began to crack. The fourth night they finally found the bodies - mangled by some kind of wild animal and ravaged almost beyond recognition by scavengers. It was only her mother's necklace, still wrapped around her throat, that claimed them.

Lydia cried and screamed the moment the head of the village told her the news. What she had feared most. She cried and cried and cried. She cried as if she was four years old again, falling down and scraping her knees. She cried like an infant being brought into the world for the first time, realizing how cruel it could be. Lydia cried more than she had let herself in her entire life. Letting all logic and reason slip through her fingers. She was a child. She was only a child.

It didn't take long for plans to be made. For her bags to be packed with all that she could carry. Leaving her little home and well known town behind. She had her mother's necklace around her neck and father's old dark rose colored cloak wrapped around her shoulders. Two escorts from her own village and one from her grandmother's where she'd soon be living. Beacon Hills.


	2. Ghost Steps

The first few days proved to be the hardest. Lydia never left the tiny one bedroomed cottage and spoke a total of seven words to her grandmother. ‘Hello. I’m fine. I miss them too.’ She sat on her makeshift bed just by the window staring off into the surrounding woods. She never fully came to realize, but some little shred of hope in the back of her mind wondered that if she stared long enough, maybe her parents would appear just beyond the trees. It was childish and stupid but she just couldn’t help herself.  
  
After a full week had passed she began to pick up the many books her grandmother had collected over the years. Lydia used to stay with her for a month in the summer season when she was much younger. Even when Lydia stopped coming for those summer visits, the fables and novels, scattered about, still remained. Ready to be picked up right where she left off ages ago. At first it was difficult. Trying to read those magical stories and pretend that everything around her was okay. But after awhile it became easier, and she found herself lost in the different worlds once again.   
  
Another week gone and she was slowly getting back to her old self. Moving about the house, cleaning, organizing. Taking walks around the clearing that surrounded her grandmothers home. She gathered wood for fire and looked for fruits or berries to collect. However it wasn’t long before  they were running low on actual food and supplies needed to take care of themselves. Her grandmother lived in the forest that enveloped the small village of Beacon Hills. It wasn’t too long of a journey to the village, an hour or two tops. Shorter if you knew your way around the woods like she did.   
  
When her grandmother first made a comment about needing to go into town Lydia didn’t say a word. The thought of being around all those people. After everything. They all knew who she was. Sylvia Martin’s granddaughter. The one who came around years ago but stopped showing up. The Orphan. Yet Lydia had hardly a clue who any of them were. When she went through the town for the first time in years, after the death of her parents, she recognized a few faces here and there. Even managed to recall a few names. But they were strangers.   
  
Sylvia was smart though. In a different way than Lydia herself was. She was charming, quick with words and knew just what to say to turn your opinions around. And before she realized it Lydia was agreeing to go with her down into the village. Her heart raced at the thought. Stomach twisting in knots at the thought of being in the large crowds. Beacon Hills was one of the only villages with an active bartering market for miles. It tended to draw a number of people which was exactly what she was hoping to avoid.Droplets of sweat beaded on her forward, hands wringing together nervously.

“Lydia? Lydia are you listening?”   
  
“Sorry?” Lydia snapped her head around to her grandmother, who only gave a light sigh in response - still the smile stayed on her face.  
  
“I said to take this.” Her grandmother repeated, holding out her father’s red cloak. Lydia reached a hand out, running her fingers across the familiar fabric. It was rough, a bit coarse, but hinted that it once was beautiful and soft. The edges now were torn and frayed among the bottom where it dragged across the ground. After all this time the hooded cloak still held together, if only by the threads. “This way it’ll be impossible for me to lose you among the crowds.” Sylvia laughed but quickly added, “not that I’m expecting I would,” noting her granddaughter’s raised brows.

  
The redhead managed a terse laugh before gently taking the cloak from her hands. She wrapped it around herself and closed her eyes. It still smelled like her father. Like the dirt of the forest floor mixed with the mint leaves he always carried with him. The cloak was heavy but hung easily around her, hugging at her shoulders. Lydia couldn’t help but notice a certain warmth that encased her, soft like the glow of a small fire. She smiled. A genuine smile.   
  
After gathering jars of herbs and spices from her grandmothers cellar, the two set off. It was strange being back in the woods, that feeling of deja vu soon setting in. It wasn’t long before she quickly picked up the old trails. Certain trees, fallen logs across the ground, even the way the branches criss crossed into the sky, creating a patchy canopy. It was a home all her own.  
  
“You look happy.” Sylvia commented, turning around to glance over at Lydia. Her smile only grew in response.   
  
“I guess it’s just nice being back here.” The girl replied quietly after a moment had passed. “It’s familiar.” She picked at a leaf hanging just above and let it fall to the ground. After all that had happened she would have assumed the forest would be the last place she found comfort. But in a way the large, quiet trees around them made her hold her head high. If they could stand tall despite storms, fires, and years of abuse by mankind running through, then so could she.   
  
The trip back into the village was a lot shorter than she remembered. The town of Beacon Hills ,however, remained unchanged. Lydia hadn’t been back since she was just a small girl. Only around six or seven. Almost ten years. She couldn’t recall exactly why she stopped staying with her grandmother. At one point in her life she was there every summer and suddenly she never went back. Maybe a few times -for holidays or other special occasions - but never for long.  
  
However, the moment Lydia stepped through the last line of trees and into the edge of the village it all came back. Those endless summer days spent running through the forest. Back and forth from her grandmother’s cottage to the town. Playing and making friends with some of the local children. She retained a few of the faces in her mind. Though by now they were as grown as she was. The girl highly doubted she’d recognize them and vice versa.   
  
“Well come along then.” Sylvia said as the two set off down the path leading into the marketplace. The closer they got to the swarm of people the tighter Lydia’s chest began to feel. A certain rush of anxiety crept through her skin but she fought to hold it back and kept her chin raised. They stopped to say hello to many of the villagers, Lydia reintroducing herself to people she’d long forgotten. She had to take the sorry, sympathetic smiles they gave her and return a gracious but, sad nod. They asked her how she was, talked about seeing her and her parents around ages ago and commented on “oh my, look how big you’ve gotten.” It was exhausting.   
  
After a while of going through the separate stands, trading off what they had for new goods of their own Sylvia finally stopped. “Lydia be a dear,” she began nodding towards a girl selling baskets of flowers, “and go pick some out for me.” After losing count of how many people she had to stop and talk to, Lydia was more than happy to escape the main crowds for a bit. She nodded, flashing a grateful smile at her grandmother before pushing her way through the masses.  
  
The girl selling the flowers looked bored beyond belief. Lydia glanced at her for a moment, noticing that she looked somewhat familiar. Raggedy blonde hair, deep brown eyes and a soft, round face. The name however, like many others, was lost. The blonde didn’t pay her any mind though. She just stared down at her hands, picking at the beds of her nails.   
  
“Lydia?” A voice spoke up from behind.  
  
Lydia turned around, eyes squinted slightly from the sun. “It’s...Isaac. Right?”


	3. But It's Haunted

Isaac Lahey. Out of everybody his name was the only one to ring clear in her mind. Hazy memories of when she was younger formed at the edges of her thoughts. The days spent with Isaac and the other kids from the village. She could recall all her adventures in Beacon Hills and everything that surrounded it. From sunup to sunset with her little group of friends. Causing havoc with the Constable’s son and charming their way out of trouble. She had a bit more freedom here than back at her old home.   
  
“Yeah.” Isaac nodded. “Nice of you to remember after all this time.” He let a smirk slip across his face and Lydia couldn’t help but return one in response.   
  
“Well it’s a bit difficult to forget the boy who shoved me out of a tree. Nearly broke my leg.” Lydia crossed her arms over her chest, smile widening. A challenge.   
  
“Wha-” Isaac threw his hands up in defense. “I absolutely did not shove you. Think your memories a bit messy there.”   
  
She laughed and shook her head. “Oh please. It’s not like I threw myself out of the tree.” Lydia thought back to that day. It was the last summer she had spent here in Beacon Hills. She, Isaac, another girl whose name escaped her, and Stiles something or another - only son of the town’s Constable. The four of them had spent the entire afternoon playing around the edge of the woods. Isaac and Lydia had dashed off by themselves, daring each other to climb the tree as high as they could.   
  
All she could remember was one moment her hands were grasping for the branches just above her and the next she was lying flat on her back, world spinning.   
  
“Fair enough.” Isaac mused, voice bringing her back to the present day. They stood like that for a moment, stuck in the past and eyes quite not meeting one another, when Isaac broke the silence. “So you here with your Gran then?”  
  
Lydia nodded. “We came down to look through the market today. She sent me over here to pick up some flowers but,” she paused for a moment turning back towards the flower stand, fingers trailing over the brightly colored petals. “I’m not sure which ones she wanted.”  
  
“Well they’ve got a lot to choose from.” Isaac said as he stepped beside her, looking over the flowers. “Daisy’s. Somewhat basic and cheap but hey they seem nice.” He prodded at a bushel of multicolored flowers next. “Tulips here. A bit cliche if you ask me. Snapdragons if you’re looking for something more exotic and oh, lilies. Pretty to look at but their meaning is a bit morbid.” He plucked one of the white flowers up, twirling it through his fingers. “Death omen and all that.”  
  
She couldn’t help but bite back a smile, gaze locked downward on the plants. “I have to say your knowledge of flowers is a tiny bit...alarming.” Lydia laughed some as she looked up at him, noticing the tips of his ears turning a shade darker. Isaac stuttered but she only stopped him. “However your interpretation of lilies is a bit off.” She turned, taking the flower from him and then in a soft tone,”They’re not omens. They symbolize the innocence restored to your soul after death.”   
  
The two were quiet, lost in thought and both staring down at the pearl colored flower between them. Strange how a little seed from the ground could grow to represent so much more. Since she got here, the death of her parents was something she was ultimately trying to ignore. Not necessarily forget but not let it weigh heavy on her heart either.

  
"I'm sorry about your parents." Isaac spoke quietly after a while, as though reading her thoughts.

Of course he had heard the tragic news as well.  
  


"It's alright." Lydia replied back. The well versed answer always ready on her tongue. She laid the lily back down on the wooden stand. The girl could feel a lump beginning to form in her throat but she swallowed it down. Isaac reached over her, picking up a small bundle of purple toned flowers. Violets.  
  
“How ‘bout these then?” He held them out to her, Lydia staring down at the flowers. She carefully took them from his hands, making sure not to let one slip through. Violets were an odd sort. They had the sweetest, richest smell but only if you took the time to let them open up your senses or if you let them be crushed between your fingertips.   
  
“I guess these will have to do.” Lydia said, teasing lightly. Isaac huffed in response but looked to smile down at her. The reunion between the two was cut short, however, when a voice in the distance began calling.  
  
“Isaac!”  
  
Lydia and Isaac both turned to see a man standing just on the edge of the market. His hair was tousled, shirt wrinkled and dirty and Lydia couldn’t help but notice the bright red rings circling his eyes. She glanced up, watching as Isaac’s face paled considerably, his hands balling into fists. The man called his name again causing the corner’s of Isaac’s mouth to twitch downwards.   
  
“Who-” Lydia began to question but was immediately cut off.   
  
“My father.” Isaac said shortly, eyes on the man and gaze no longer meeting hers. “I have to go.” He started off towards his father but stopped for a beat. “It was good seeing you again.” Isaac turned towards Lydia, smile not quite meeting his eyes. She nodded, small smile on her face as well, and watched him leave.  
  
She waited until the two figures had merged with the rest of the crowd before stepping back over  to the blonde headed girl. The only other one there, Lydia could only assume it was she who was running the stand. “How much?” Lydia asked lifting the flowers slightly for the girl to see.   
  
The blonde looked up from her nails, brow raised as she stared down at the purple petals. Her deadpan expression changed however the moment she locked eyes with Lydia. Her gaze widened slightly, a mocking smile curling up her lips. “Oh for a Martin? Absolutely nothing.” She cocked her head to the side, smirk turning into a grin. “Not even here for a month and already have the entire town charmed. Just like old times.”   
  
“Old times…” And then it hit her.”Erica?” Lydia questioned as the other girl rolled her eyes. How could she forget. Erica had made up the fourth person in their small group of troublemakers. Constantly trailing behind and worried about getting caught.  
  
“Wonderful. First Isaac and now me. That’s two whole people you remember. And don’t I just feel special.” The smile withered down into a flat line, bordering a scowl as she stared hard at the redhead. Lydia could only imagine what she had done to aggravate Erica like this. When they were children she was always so quiet -consistently trying to be the voice of reason once Lydia had decided to go along with whatever plan Stiles and Isaac had come up with.   
  
She had certainly grown from that timid little girl. That much was obvious. She had filled out, face rounded and hair reaching down to her back. However her skin was sullen ivory, dark circles filling the creases under her eyes. Unwell was the only word coming to Lydia’s mind. Sick.   
  
Still, whether she was ill or not didn’t exactly dictate her to have such a rotten attitude. Lydia stuck her chin out, head raised and eyes narrowed ever so slightly. She placed one hand on her hip the other still clutching the stems of the violets.   
  
“With a face like yours, Erica, your image is quite literally seared into my mind. Couldn’t forget even if I tried.” She kept a smile on her face watching the blonde’s drop. “Looking a bit pale there. Maybe try to get a little sun, hm?” She turned away from the stand and started to head towards the main road of the market place. No matter what mental state she was in or what she had been put through Lydia refused to let herself be pushed around. Even if it was by someone she once considered a friend.  
  
“So good seeing you.” Erica called after her. “But before you go maybe a little word of advice.” That stopped Lydia in her tracks. The redhead spun her body back around, facing the other girl. “Might not mention that you were talking with Isaac to your grandmother. Lahey’s and Martin’s don’t exactly mix well.” Lydia stared at her, confused. What was that supposed to mean? “But of course you knew that, right?” Erica smirked once more before looking away from her, back down at her nail beds. Any pride that still remained refused to let her prod the blonde for a more detailed explanation.

“Thanks for the flowers.” Lydia called over her shoulder, walking away from Erica, the violets still clutched in her hand. She placed them in her basket in fear of losing them in the crowds. It didn’t take long for her to finally spot her grandmother among the mass of villagers. The older woman was bent slightly over one of the stands selling fruit. She had the owners hand clasped in her own and looked as though she was mumbling something in her ear. “Gran.” Lydia called, approaching her grandmother.  
  
Sylvia straightened up when she saw her, smile appearing on her lips. “Well there you are. Thought I’d lost you.” She reached out a hand, lightly placing it on Lydia’s arm. “You all set then, love?” Lydia nodded once, her small woven basket clutched in her hands. Her grandmother turned back to the woman sitting on the other side of the fruit stand. “I’ve got to be off. But no worries dear, you’ll be in my thoughts.” Sylvia patted the table once with her free hand before she began to guide Lydia out of the swarm of people.  
  
“What was that about?” Lydia asked curiously, glancing back at the woman. She was hunched over some, gaze cast downward and palm covering her mouth. Her dark eyes were heavy with thought, brows creased. Lydia recognized that dull sheen in her eyes. It was that hollow look of loss.   
  
“Son went missing a few years back.” Sylvia said, voice low as not to attract any curious listeners. “Convinced she saw him a few nights ago but…” She trailed off, lips pursed. Lydia decided not to push the subject anymore. “Anyway.” Sylvia looked over at her grand daughter. “You find some flowers then?”   
  
“Violets, actually.” The girl said, lifting her basket for her grandmother to see. Sylvia smiled.  
  
“Good choice. Lot of history with violets.” She reached over, picking one from Lydia’s basket. “Greek and Roman mostly. With Venus in particular. However, later on they were used a lot by gypsy folk. For protection among other things. Nicely done, love.” They were just about to the edge of forest now - the path her grandmother typically used already in sight.   
  
“Isaac Lahey picked them out, actually.” Lydia noted, glancing up at the older woman. If she hadn’t been paying attention she wouldn’t have noticed the twitch in her Gran’s mouth or the way her step paused for just a beat. Sylvia didn’t say anything, so Lydia continued you on. “We used to play together when we were children- at least when I still came down here. It’s been a while though. Can’t believe I even recognized him or that he even recognized-” Her babbling was cut short.   
  
“Probably best you don’t go hanging around that Lahey boy, Lydia.” Sylvia’s voice was flat, not looking back at the younger redhead.   
  
“But...I don’t understand. Why not?” Lydia looked back at her confused. For as long as she had known her, her grandmother had never been the judgemental type. Always looking for the best in people. It had been something she greatly admired.  
  
“Family’s just trouble is all, but now’s not really the time for that discussion. Hate for my little lamb to get herself lost in the woods.” With that the two were off, trekking through the thick forest. The rest of the trip was silent. Lydia’s mind, however, was racing with a thousand different thoughts. Clearly there was more than Sylvia was letting on - it was just a matter of figuring it out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I dropped this story after a loss of inspiration but have recently picked it back up! The third chapter is currently in the works. Hope you'll stick around for more!

**Author's Note:**

> A few people asked me to continue my other story Scarelet & Indigo. Unfortunately I wrote it as just a one shot. And while I could continue it, it just wouldn't feel right. I decided however to rework the general fairy tale AU idea and came up with this! I hope you stick around for more to come (:
> 
> If you'd like to help support me you can do so here! <3 http://ko-fi.com/clandestine


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